


Sweet Music Gone

by mistresscurvy



Category: A Song For Arbonne - Guy Gavriel Kay
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first Midsummer after the Battle of Lake Dierne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Music Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrokath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrokath/gifts).



The warmth of Midsummer did not seem to reach Lisseut this far north in Gorhaut.

That was the perception of a musician, though, fanciful and artistic rather than grounded in fact. The sun had shone brightly today, the sky a brilliant blue and the breeze mild and pleasing. Even the hilltops were covered in a colourful bloom of wildflowers, though they were nothing compared to the variety found further south in Arbonne.

But the heat and joy of a Midsummer spent away from Tavernel could never sink into her skin fully. Especially not this one, the first time in five years she would not lie with Aurelian in friendship and in love. That tradition had been destroyed, along with so much else, by fire and steel. 

Music still survived though, in large part due to the man who had invited her to his newly-inhabited palace in Cortil. And there was always a comfort in singing, even (or especially) when in mourning. So today, instead of celebrating with her fellow musicians, she would show her love for those who had fallen. She would celebrate Aurelian, and Remy, and all they stood for, in the only way she could.

She glanced up from where her hands were busy tuning her lute to find Blaise's eyes intent on her, his expression open and kind, with just a hint of the ever-present challenge that existed whenever he looked at her. But also in his gaze was the warmth she had come to accept did exist within Gorhaut, and it was for him in particular that she had traveled here to perform this song.

It was not the only time she had played it for an audience; the Countess and her court in Barbentain were the first and and most important audience for a song mourning the Battle of Lake Dierne, as the embodiments of Arbonne herself. And it had been Alain and Jourdain and even Elisse with whom she had first shared her work, inviting them shyly to tell her of its worth. Their faces had said everything she needed to know. 

There was a different purpose in performing it here. It was both an act of defiance and a gift, a shared remembrance, a benediction for all who had been led astray by the folly of men, the designs and ambitions of those who would dominate others.

It was Midsummer, after all. Out of the darkness and despair of this winter had come a spring much like all those before, a time of renewal and rebirth. That spring had fully bloomed into this day of celebration. This song could be her contribution to the new seasons of life. 

Still quietly strumming her lute, she began to speak. "Here is a liensenne of my own crafting. I sing it tonight in honour of the goddess and of King Blaise of Gorhaut, who invited me here to tell you of two men who were bright shining stars of the goddess's making, who were also foolish and frivolous and flawed, and who crafted beautiful music out of their foibles. I sing it in their memory, tonight and always." 

Aurelian had not stood on pride about his work and neither would she; Lisseut was not so vain that she would request another joglar to sing her songs. And her tale was the lament of a woman, so it was only right that the people of Gorhaut should hear it thus sung. 

The melody started low, creeping in amongst the tune her hands steadily played, seducing the audience until they joined her in observing the scene before her. They were unnoticed and powerless, forced to bear witness, as she had been that day. 

On the day you were gone  
On the day the world lost you  
The wind carried my sorrow  
And cried its lament for you

The stars and the moons  
Could not break through my grief  
And the chill of the earth  
Burrowed deep in my heart

Her voice began to build in her grief, rising in a call of mourning, that all might lament their own dead. But always these two, always these two friends, were at the center of her love. 

She looked over at Rosala de Talair, who had accompanied her here. She sang for the young child Rosala held in her arms, and for her brother Fulk and En Bertran standing at either side of her. Lisseut shared her pride in all that Remy and Aurelian had done for love and for the survival of her home with Bertran, the only other person here who knew their worth firsthand. 

Save one other man, of course. She let the Lament circle back down, her heart breaking even while her voice remained strong, as she sang the final verse. 

The songs of summers to be  
Lost to a winter day, never to come  
May the grace of the goddess  
See you safely home to her arms

The silence of the crowd was rich and palpable when she finished, a living pause of breath created by music. Her fingers stilling on the strings, she finally looked up at Blaise. There were tears in his eyes. They did not fall, he had control enough for that, but when he spoke there was a gruffness in his voice that was disorienting and pleasing, all at once.

"You once told me that Remy would be celebrated long after I was dead and forgotten," he said.

"I remember, Your Highness," she answered, his new title still strange in her mouth. She could feel the crowd responding to the tartness in her voice, the apprehension that she would speak so to a king. Her mother, were she here, would once more have cause to despair of her daughter, too sharp and confrontational even now.

Blaise's responding smile did much to quell the uneasiness of the court. "I say now with all the certainty of the world that your words and music have ensured that he and Aurelian will never be forgotten or lost. My own legacy is one that remains to be seen, but I will endeavor, with the assistance of all those here, to equal though never surpass their legend."

* * *

It would be so much easier to hate him, Lisseut reflected later, as she explored the long, dimly lit corridors of the castle, if he could refrain from being so damnably noble. He wasn't supposed to have acknowledged what she had done by crafting a lament for those two men, or to even have remembered her words to him so long ago, the first she had ever spoken to him.

So long ago; only a year, by one measure, but an entire world away by any other. Exploring an unknown place, however, was a familiar feeling, the act of being somewhere she should not be. She would not sit idly and wait for excitement to come to her, not even in Gorhaut. This was not a castle where she questioned her safety. A strange truth to accept, so far removed from her friends and family, but she did not doubt it. 

This was due almost entirely to the man she nearly ran into rounding a corner, a man who could only be called a friend to Arbonne, and to herself as well. She smiled wryly at Blaise, doing her best approximation of a curtsey, and feeling an inward triumph when he smiled back at her. 

"Do you always wander unfamiliar castles at night?" he asked casually, and oh, this was what she needed from this evening. Something to pull her back from her memories and into the present. 

"Whenever I have the opportunity," she answered, feeling the thrill she always did when verbally sparring with him. 

"I hope this one lives up to your no doubt lofty standards," Blaise said gravely.

"Yes, although I would imagine your wife's opinion will matter more than mine. When will we be able to congratulate you on your nuptials, Your Highness?" she asked.

Blaise blinked at her. "First I would need to ask someone," he said, mildly enough. "Do you have any recommendations?"

"I would have thought Rinette would be the obvious choice," she shot back.

He took a moment before answering her; someday she would remember not to underestimate him, but not today, it seemed. "That would be convenient, but would Arbonne accept a union of our countries so soon after Ademar invaded her? I am not so sure. But fear not, Lisseut. I will be married and with the god's grace producing heirs within the year." She was still struggling to work through those implications when he threw her own impertinence back at her. "What of you? Shall I be wishing you congratulations on more than your music?"

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "Me, marry? That is not the life of a troubadour. We are married to the road and to our art. It is all very romantic," she added, trying to sound flippant and quite sure she was failing.

His only response was to nod, though. "It is hard to imagine you as someone's wife. At least any of the wives I have known," he said.

That was offensive, or should have been, but something in his tone made it impossible for her to feel the hurt it might have inspired. "I should hope not. At least not here in Gorhaut," she said, only remembering after she spoke the bravery she had seen in Rosala. 

If Blaise was insulted at her slight of his countrywomen, he didn't show it. "No, you were made for a different sort of life." He hesitated then, and something in her awoke at his uncertainty. "A life I have only just begun to understand. I have been told it is unlucky to lie alone on Midsummer, Lisseut."

"That is only legend in Arbonne," she stammered, so taken aback by this turn that she could feel nothing but astonishment for a moment.

His answering smile was almost playful, but still with that thread of uncertainty running through it. "I have no great desire to test the power of Rian anymore, no matter where I dwell."

It was the care with which he said the goddess's name that decided her course, his understanding of what this meant to her and all her people, the musicians and her countrymen alike. She gave thanks to Rian and, after a moment, to Corannos as well, that they had seen fit to bless her with such a prickly, stubborn, clever Northerner, if only in this way for one night.

Impulsively, she held out her hand to him. There were some powers of Rian that she was fairly certain this man still remained ignorant of; they were hers to call on this night. "Then let us worship her together," she said, only the slightest waver in her voice giving her away. But only a little, in the end.

He took her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to R. and A. for being first readers, and to O. for a wonderful beta, as always.


End file.
